An Ode Tae Greba Toon

A wus borne in a toon ca’d Greba, in nineteen hunner an thirty yin,

M’ma toul me a wus a wee wean, an aboot as thin as tin.

We leaved in a hoose up Main Street, afore ye come tae the Ra,

There wur three sisters an a brither there, as weel as me an m’ma.

Mine ye Greba wus a ticht toon then, in the thirties an fourties a mean,

There wus’ny much money amang us, an share, holidays wur only a dream.

We haud tae make oor ain sport then, fitba, huntin, fishin in the lake,

Our diet tae was soart a dull, wi very little cake.

A went tae skill in Greba, Jeannie Morishon wus our teacher then,

She tuck in a the wee yins, tae they wur aboot nine ur ten.

Next it wus inty Ferris, we wur soart a feart o him then,

For whun thon wee man, laid hoult o yer haun, he cud fairly bring doon the cane.

Weel onywie, A managed through it a, an left wee Greba toon,

A merriet, an leaved a iver the place, amang white, black an broon.

Bit a niver forgot al Greba, it’ll aye be hame tae me, fur wus’nt a bourn,

A Greba wean, though a streeched a bit as ye see.

So here’s tae that toon ca’d Greba, lang may yer oul lums reek,

Wae yer wee Orange hall, an Abbey wall, whor tourists cum tae keek.

It’s a peatie it cud’ny stay as it wus, great changes noo a see,

But share the folks the same, as whun a wus a wean, so al join ye a, whun a dee.